Accepting the differences

Trigger Alert:  Mental Health, Depression, Suicide

One of the things that I have come to enjoy doing on an almost daily basis is working on a paint-by-number painting while listening to a podcast.  (In case you didn't know, painting by number has come a long way from the blocky paintings I remember as a child.  You can create some beautiful paintings that are worth hanging as art in your house!)  I have found that the painting process is sort of meditative and it puts me into a state of mind where I can just listen for hours and absorb a lot of information in a way that I could not do if I wasn't painting.  I listen to a variety of podcasts, but the one I happened to be listening to recently was The Journey On Podcast with Warwick Schiller.

This is the first paint-by-number painting I did.

 

I find that I have to space out listening to these podcasts with Warwick because no matter who the guest is, there are always multiple powerful observations and concepts presented that I need time to digest.  A few nights ago, I was listening to Episode 37, with Kerri Lake.  I had recently listened to a different episode and really thought it was too soon to listen to another one, but I couldn't find anything else I wanted to listen to.

I had never heard of Kerri Lake, and to be honest, I wasn't really expecting much.  I don't know why.  Like I said above, I always come away with lots of food for thought after the podcasts, so I'm not sure why I thought this one would be different.  

It may have had something to do with the fact that Ms. Lake has worked as an animal communicator.  What she does now is quite a bit more than that.  But I have to admit that when I hear the term "animal communicator," I don't have a lot of respect for it.  I've heard about these communicators and I know people who have used them.  And these people seem to be very impressed.  But I have sort of categorized them in the same way that I view the psychics who advertise their services on TV.  It isn't so much that I believe psychics can't exist or that people can't communicate with animals.  It's more that I question the formality and consistency of it.  Is it really possible for a psychic to be able to see something in the future for every single person based on a phone call?  Is it really possible for an animal communicator to translate the thoughts and feelings of multiple species of animals into the kinds of ideas that make sense to humans?

I still don't know the answers to those questions after listening to the podcast, but I sure got some good insights anyway.  I won't give a blow-by-blow account of the content, because I think it is worth listening to for anyone and everyone, especially if you are a parent or you interact with kids on a regular basis.

There were two especially powerful moments for me during the podcast.  The first was when Ms. Lake talked about how she had basically been born with this ability to see animals differently than the average person does.  And that when she tried to communicate this ability to her parents, they refused to accept it.  As a result, she tried to hide her ability and she felt ashamed and guilty about it.  It made me wonder how many times as adults we dismiss the ideas of children.  How many times do we refuse to acknowledge their perceptions of the world around them.  And what is the impact of that lack of acknowledgement on the people they become?

Which leads me to the second moment when Ms. Lake talked about how she tried to take her own life.  It snuck up on me.  It seemed like she was sharing just another life experience and then I realized what she was saying.  It was like being hit in the face.  Because her perception of animals was so foreign to so many people, not just her parents, she reached the point where she simply did not want to be a part of this world any longer.  This woman, who I had come to believe was a beautiful human being with so much value, had come to the point where she could not make herself fit into the world around her and no longer wanted to try.

And it occurred to me to wonder how many times this has happened.  How many times someone has found so little acceptance that they simply cannot bear to go on.  How our culture is intolerant of the things that cannot be categorized.  We can target our perceptions of race and gender and religion and disability and an assortment of other things because we can categorize them.  And if we can categorize them, we can set up procedures to work on our prejudice.

But what if we can't categorize the differences?  How do we see those people?  How do we work on accepting people who are just "different?"  

I'm reminded of a character in a popular work of fiction.  She perceived the world differently than the kids around her and was often bullied or made fun of.  As the book goes on, we discover that some of her perceptions are more accurate than we could have imagined and that she is brave beyond belief.  But very few other characters ever realize that about her, and I suspect that for most readers, her story is overshadowed by the larger struggle of the main characters.  But what if the people around her had been more accepting of her?  Her bravery may never have been necessary in the first place because the environment that supported the horrible events in the book may never have existed.  What larger changes could we see from a society that doesn't belittle, marginalize, or diminish those that see the world differently?

But let's forget the world at large for now and look at a much smaller subset - the horse world.  I struggle all the time with talking to other horse people about the things I learn about horses that are on the fringe.  It is one of the biggest reasons I have this blog.  It is somehow much less threatening to publish my less conventional thoughts to the anonymous internet world than it is to talk about them with the horse people I know.  Because horse people are the same as any other group of people.  There are pervasive beliefs that permeate the core of the horse world.  And questioning those beliefs is often met with extremely negative reactions.

I'm thinking of widely-held beliefs like the following:

• Horses need to wear a noseband to keep their mouths shut so they don't evade the bit.
• Piaffe and passage are advanced dressage movements that can only be performed by upper level, talented dressage horses, and you need to use a stick to teach piaffe by tapping on the horse's legs.
  
• Horses need to be kept in stalls for their own safety.
• Only a professional farrier can properly trim a horse's hooves.
• Only a licensed vet can properly float a horse's teeth.
• Only a certified nutritionist can properly balance a horse's diet.
• Only commercial feeds can meet a horse's nutritional needs.
• Humans need to show the horse who is the boss.

And I could go on.  But what if I told you:

• I never put a noseband on my horse, even if he is wearing a double bridle.
• I was able to ask for and get piaffe and passage on my low-level Friesian, who was considered completely unsuitable for upper level dressage and had trouble cantering, and I didn't need a stick to teach the piaffe.
  
• My horse is always turned out, except for brief periods of time spent eating in a stall (or during the day during the brutal Virginia summers).
• I trim my horse's hooves myself, with no oversight from a farrier.
• I use an equine dentist who is self-trained.
• I set up my own system for balancing my horse's diet.
• I minimize the use of commercial horse feeds when I set up my horse's feeding program.
• Sometimes if my horse doesn't want to do something, I stop asking and "give in."

Do you feel like you need to point out the assorted reasons that the things I'm doing aren't a good idea?  Does it make you feel uncomfortable because you do something different?  Do you think I must be a kook who wouldn't know good horse care if it fell on her head?  Maybe not, if you are already reading this blog, but you might know someone who would feel those things.  If you did answer yes to one or more of my questions, why?  And what information might change your mind?  A scientific study?  A direct experience that contradicts your certainty?  An expert with a different perception of the way horses think?  (Feel free to let me know in the comments!)

The thing is, I didn't always do these things.  (And I reserve the right to continue to evolve!)  I spent decades thinking that the conventional beliefs were true, and I not only didn't question them, but I actively promoted them to others as the incontrovertible truth.  But there came a point about nine or ten years ago when I realized that those "truths" didn't always seem to make sense.  And I took my first terrifying step on the path to educating myself instead of relying on "experts" to tell me what to do.

On that path, I have encountered a lot of "different" people.  Not all of those "different" people have ended up being people whose advice I wanted to follow, but every single one of them has put me in a position to think through my experiences and see how they align with conventional beliefs.  And they have all allowed me to grow and become a better horsewoman.

I'm glad I ended up listening to the podcast with Kerri Lake.  I'm curious enough about what I heard to explore further and learn more about her experiences.  And in the process, I hope to improve my ability to accept those people who see the world in an unconventional way as well as to learn ways to improve my connection with my horse and her quality of life.

Update on Star

I first wrote in detail about Star, a horse that my daughter is working with at the barn where I board Donut, in this post.  At that time, I wasn't really sure what the future held for Star.  She was clearly in a lot of pain, and she had recently been brutally attacked by another mare in her herd.  Over time, she healed from the injuries caused by the attack.  She was examined by a vet, who prescribed Equioxx (an arthritis medicine) and Cosequin (a joint supplement) for the pain issues she had had before the attack.  The vet also suggested that a visit from a chiropractor would be a good idea.

Thankfully, Star's caregiver agreed to do all of those things, and the changes in Star since January have been nothing short of miraculous.  Gemma and I started out doing some hand-walking and groundwork with her a few days a week.  Over time, Gemma started riding bareback and I would walk with her and Star around the farm.  Then Gemma started putting a saddle on and walking her over some ground poles and flower boxes, and I started introducing Star to in-hand work.

Now, it is almost unbelievable to see Star.  She can be ridden at the walk, trot, and canter by Gemma.  I had a lesson with her with the same instructor that I used when I was riding Nimo.  We did some in-hand work to start with, and Star was so spunky that we graduated to doing some work on the lunge.  My instructor actually recommended that I start riding her because it would be easier to do the more advanced balance and collection work with her that way.

So I've gotten on her a few times now.  I'm just walking her for about 20 minutes around the farm, and I even took her on a slow trail ride with a few other boarders several days ago, and she did well.  She normally has a huge bubble and needs lots of personal space, but I noticed that her bubble has shrunk considerably and she is able to tolerate horses being near her much better than she did in the past.

My next step is to gradually increase her workload and start asking for more balance at the walk and trot.  Assuming she handles that work well, I will be working with my instructor on a regular basis to see how far we can advance her balance and coordination.

My heart is so full every time I look at this wonderful mare.  It used to be that when she was in the round pen, where she had to stay after her attack because she couldn't go back out with her old herd, she would try very hard to ignore all people and pretend to be invisible.  Now, she is able to be out in a field with several other horses (different than her old herd).  In fact, Donut is one of her herd-mates now.  Donut would dearly like to make friends with her, but Star is still a bit wary.  But none of the horses are bullying her and they all treat her with respect and give her the space she asks for.  And when Gemma or I come into the field to catch her, she will now walk up to us with a happy expression.

Star's transformation is one of the most rewarding experiences I have ever had.  It is a testament to how resilient horses are as well as to how finding the right combination of medications and therapy can significantly improve a horse's quality of life.  I look forward to continuing to work with her as long as we are able to.

And who would believe this mare is 24 years old?!

They are other nations...

We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals...We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves.  And therein we err, and greatly err.  For the animal shall not be measured by man.  In a world older and more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extension of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear.  They are not brethren, they are not underlings, they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time.  -- Henry Beston

I first heard this quote when I was listening to the Journey on Podcast with Warwick Schiller a couple of days ago.  It is the quote that appears on the home page of Jillian Kreinbring, the lady that Schiller interviewed in his most recent podcast.  

There is so much in this quote that resonates with the way I have come to feel about horses.  And there is a whole lot in the podcast discussion that resonates with me too.  In fact, it will probably take me awhile to unpack it all.

But after spending a day at a horse show with my daughter yesterday, it occurred to me that the ideas that Beston identifies are not catching on, even though he wrote them over 75 years ago in a book called, The Outermost House: A Year of Life on the Great Beach of Cape Cod.  I watched horses exhibit a range of behavior that indicated they were not ready for their job that day and that their communication with their humans was spotty at best.  Sometimes the behavior was less obvious - moving on the forehand or being unbalanced through turns or at the canter.  Other times, it was more obvious - rushing between fences, head held super high with a stiff neck, refusing fences, and even unseating riders in a fairly dramatic fashion.

It is certainly true that the only way to really prepare a horse for doing something is to do the thing.  It can be particularly hard to simulate a horse show environment at home or even by going to another barn.  There is no substitute for the impact things like a loudspeaker, lots of high energy horses, random people walking around, colorful jackets and EZ-ups and coolers, a new ring with different jumps, etc.  I remember that when I started going to endurance rides with Nimo, there were still things about the ride day that I couldn't prepare him for in advance.  Even though his first endurance ride was at the exact same location we had done an intro ride at the year before, he still had a complete meltdown and we spent nine brutal miles on the trail before we finally got the opportunity to get it together.  Each ride after that got better, but I feel lucky we both survived the first one.

So my point here is to acknowledge that I do understand that a person can do a lot of prep work with a horse and still have the show or the event go horribly wrong because horses seem to have a pretty good sense for what is a training exercise and what is the real thing.  Probably due to those voices they hear that we don't.

But one thing we can control if our horse has an unexpected meltdown despite our best preparation is our response to the situation.  Without exception, every rider I saw yesterday responded to their horse's refusal to go forward, whether it was over a jump or on flat ground, in the same way.  With increased pressure.  More kicking, more seat aids, yelling, or even hitting the horse with a crop.  Near the end of the show, one horse entered the arena and was rearing and spinning and giving super clear signals that all was not right in his world.  The horse's extreme responses continued and continued.  The rider kept insisting that he move around the arena and attempt a jump.  A person that I am assuming was the trainer stood at the gate and twirled a lead rope at the horse if he ever tried to move toward the exit.  

I admit that most of my verbal filters were gone at this point (I think I'd been at the show for at least 12 hours), and I said, "If that horse flips over backward on that rider, she will deserve it."  I'm pretty sure the people around me thought that was a pretty awful thing to say.  After all, people are more important than animals, right?  And horses are supposed to do what we say, right?  They don't get to have choices or express concern about anything.  The whole reason they exist is so humans can get on them and control them.  Surely after 55 million years of evolution, they would understand their job, right?

The thing is, I don't believe that anymore.  There was a time when I did, at least to some degree.  But now, what happened with that horse and rider in that arena last night is something I can only categorize as a utter tragedy.  This horse wasn't simply saying, "Hey, I am a little worried about that jump over there because the light is fading and my depth perception is wonky."  He was SCREAMING.  Loud enough so everyone could hear.  And he was not only ignored, but he was told over and over and over that his screaming was irrelevant.

The lady did finally leave the arena without jumping the course.  She was alive, but I worried about the fate of her horse.  Another person watching pointed out that this particular horse had shown similar behavior in the past at this show and it appeared to be getting worse.  I'm definitely not any kind of horse whisperer, so I don't know what was bothering that horse, but I do know that just about the worst thing you can do when a horse starts acting like something is really bothering them is to increase the pressure.  I know that because I've made that mistake about 6,237 times during the course of my life.  I have only recently (like in the last few years) started to rethink that approach, because it finally occurred to me that it never worked.  (I have often said that sometimes I can be a slow learner, and this issue is a perfect example of that.)

I have been practicing over and over the idea of looking to find the horse's first indication of stress to something, for example, the clippers I'm introducing to Donut.  Once I see that first indication, I stop progressing and hold the pressure as constant as I can and wait for Donut to start showing signs that she is OK with the clippers.  THEN I TAKE THE CLIPPERS AWAY.  That is the key.  For a long time, what I did was start escalating the pressure again.  So the reward to the horse was more pressure.

After watching some videos done by Warwick Schiller and Tristan Tucker, I started to understand that taking away the pressure was the real key to helping the horse become more confident.  I am not claiming to be an expert on this technique.  And I am definitely still learning how to do it well, but I like it a lot.  I've seen positive results with it.  I had posted a few weeks ago about taking some baby steps with clipping Donut.  She now has a full trace clip that I am starting to expand.  She still doesn't like the clippers near her head or on her lower legs, but pretty much everywhere else is fine now.  I stopped having any kind of time considerations about when I would have her fully body clipped and what I do now is clip for a minute or two several times a week.  Sometimes I revisit an area I've already done and sometimes I will clip new hair.  Each time I try to watch Donut's reaction.  Is she worried or relaxed?  If she is worried, I will pause and stay in the same area and then when she relaxes, I give her a break.  My goal is simply to spend the summer working on clipping.  So her coat may look funny for a few months, but that is OK, because in the end, clipping any part of her body should be no big deal.  And then we can spend the next 20 plus years together not worrying about it.

And when I think about it, the clipping process is pretty amazing.  Here is my horse, standing in a box of four walls, an environment that should scare her to death because she can't see any predators coming, munching on food that has been prepared for her instead of food she has chosen for herself, letting a predator at the top of her food chain touch her with an object that sounds like a huge buzzing fly that creates weird sensations on her sensitive skin.  

She really is from a foreign nation.  Everything about the way that I want to interact with her is opposite from that which she has evolved to handle.  And yet, she is there with me.  What an incredible gift!  What a testament to how well horses can handle cross-cultural interactions!

In fact, I sort of wonder how our relationship with horses would change if we viewed them as representatives from another human culture very different from our own.  What if we exercised the same care with our words and our actions as we do when we meet someone from another country?  I remember when I traveled to Australia to spend a semester there, I read a lot about the culture ahead of time and while I was there, part of my studies involved an immersion in Australian history, art, and language.  When we visited areas inhabited by Aborigines, we received careful instruction on how to interact and show respect and it never occurred to anyone in my group to do anything other than follow those instructions as best as we could.

Of course, unlike our knowledge about many human cultures, our knowledge about equine culture is still limited.  The studies that are done are often quite human-centric because it seems to be very difficult for people to think that animals might have more knowledge about how to live in this world than we do.  But I don't need a double-blind peer-reviewed scientific study to recognize that my horse is Other.  She is as alien to me as a sentient being from another planet.  She does things that I don't understand all the time.  I'm sure I do things that she doesn't understand all the time too.  And yet, we keep coming back to each other every day to try again.

I have to admit that I have a deep curiosity about why horses want to interact with people.  I doubt I will ever know for sure, but the journey to investigate is so very appealing.  And perhaps it is so appealing because of the very intangible quality of Other that we see in horses.  Horses possess a very ancient knowledge passed on to them from millions of ancestors.  Humans do too, but we seem to have lost the ability to access it.  I wonder if part of our attraction to spending time with animals is our DNA's way of telling us that the key to unlocking our own ancient knowledge is through trying to understand these other nations.

I wonder what ancient voices Nimo heard as he looked at this sky?

One Year Later

I was disoriented and the sense of grief was so overwhelming that I felt like I couldn't breathe.  It was dark and I glanced at the clock.  11:07.  I slowly started getting my bearings.  I had gone to bed not that long ago, and I couldn't have been asleep for more than 45 minutes.  I'd been dreaming about Nimo.  Not a good dream, though.  I couldn't quite remember the details, but I was so upset that I couldn't stop crying, and I had to get out of bed to walk around.  It took me another two hours to be able to fall back asleep.

That was about three weeks ago.  At the time, I'd noticed that all the motivation I'd had for a couple of months to do some redecorating in our house had vanished.  I didn't want to do laundry or dishes or any other household chores even more than usual.  Work was irritating me more than usual, and my attitude was at best borderline combative.  In general, I felt overwhelmed and unable to focus.  But I couldn't figure out why - until I had that dream.

I know people who become quite depressed around the anniversary of a loved one's death.  And I've never understood it.  Why is the anniversary date such a significant date?  I still don't know, but subconsciously my brain must have been counting the days until the one-year anniversary of Nimo's death and as the date approached, I struggled more and more.

I had intended to write a post in remembrance of Nimo for today to commemorate the life of a well-loved and special horse.  But the more I thought about it, the more I couldn't wrap my head around what I should write.  What more could I say than what I had written in an entire blog about him?  Which pictures could possibly express how much he mattered to me and what a hole his absence has left in my life?

The reality is that just over a year after Nimo died, I still miss him as much as I did when he first died.  I have been doing the best I can to live my life and move on.  I can talk about him without crying.  And until recently I've been able to think of him without having a complete meltdown.  

But now, the grief feels so fresh again.  I find myself imagining how he would interact with Donut.  I think he would find her annoying but sort of like a big brother finds a little sister annoying.  I suspect he would vaguely remember that he used to be annoying too and cut her some slack.  I imagine that he would be her buddy for things like trailering and walking around the farm.

I would give just about anything to feel his nose check in with me as I was grooming him.  Or have the ease of leading him and knowing that there would be no random airs above the ground.  Or feel his shoulder under my hand.  I miss the quiet moments of connection.

I remind myself that it has been a year and that I should be in a different place now.  But much like working with a horse, I guess going through the grieving process takes the time it takes.  And mine is going to take a little bit longer...

Masterson Method Clinic

There can be no doubt that I spend too much time late at night on social media or shopping online.  I have come to the conclusion more than once that I should cut myself off after 9 pm, because I have a tendency to think I need something or should comment on something that I really don't need or really shouldn't comment on.

Alas, I am a slow-learner, and so that is how I found myself discovering a reasonably local clinic on the Masterson Method of equine bodywork.  If you are unfamiliar with it, the method uses techniques that involve different levels of touch, manipulating different body parts in certain ways, and a little bit of actual massage to bring the horse awareness of tension in its body.  Once the horse has this awareness, it can often resolve the tension on its own using method of release like licking and chewing, yawning, stretching, and shaking the head or body.  This method is considered unique because it involves using the horse's own set of skills for releasing tension rather than doing something to the horse and sort of trying to force the release of tension.  That doesn't mean it is necessarily better than all other methods for all horses, but it makes it a much more user-friendly method for average horse people to learn.  And the more people that are focused on their horses and actively working with them to release any built-up tension, the better.

A therapeutic riding center in the area was planning to host a clinic on the method several weeks in the future, and announced the event on Facebook.  I was so excited, because I love using the Masterson Method and had been sort of wishing I could learn more advanced techniques without the commitment of a three- or five-day clinic in a different state.  And because I was so excited, I probably didn't think through what I was doing or ask questions about what the clinic would cover.  It is also possible that I didn't thoroughly read the registration materials; it is too late to say exactly what happened.

That is how I found myself at a therapeutic riding center this past weekend with high expectations of not only learning some tips on using the method, but also being able to practice on a horse and get some feedback.  It turns out that the clinic was really geared for people in the therapeutic riding or equine-assisted therapy world, and the presenter spent a lot of time talking about how to incorporate the method into income-driven activities as well as using it as therapy for people.  Not horses.  She did mention more than once that the horse was the most important part of the therapy process, but the information she presented really emphasized how to use the method as therapy for people with disabilities or even for corporate team-building exercises.

Here's the thing.  I know there is a lot of information out there about how helpful equine-assisted therapy is for kids (or adults) with disabilities.  On the one hand, I think that is wonderful.  How great is it that these kids can have a door opened for them!  On the other hand, I have seen case after case of therapy horses that are simply not given the resources they need to cope with the demands of their jobs.  They have to handle incredibly unbalanced riders over and over, sometimes for years or even over a decade, and no one else with good riding skills rides them between therapeutic sessions to help re-balance them.  They are handled by volunteers who don't necessarily have lots of expert and relevant horse experience.  They don't do strenuous work, so they are often out-of-shape and have a body condition that isn't healthy for them.  

If a human being was doing this type of work, I think everyone could agree that the person should have certain coping resources available to them, like counseling and gym memberships and hobbies and vacations and the opportunity to change careers if they felt burned out.  I'm sure that some organizations are aware of those needs for their horses and work hard to meet them.  But I'm equally positive that many organizations don't.  I've seen first hand what a single year of being a therapy horse can do to a horse that was previously fit and looking very good.  (Said horse developed very poor body condition and lost a ton of muscle and eventually became lame, was diagnosed with an unspecified neurological disease, and fell through a fence and over a retaining wall, thus breaking her pelvis and having to be euthanized on the spot.  Maybe that train wreck would have happened anyway, but I don't think so.  Therapy horses are paying a price when we use them for our benefit.)

So I was kind of horrified to discover that a technique originally intended to be primarily for the benefit of the horse was being used for corporate team-building exercises and a way to promote equine-assisted therapy.  (I absolutely understand that there are other points of view, but I went into that clinic blind and I guess I'm trying to process the information that I learned.)

The presenter did do a demonstration on the Bladder Meridian Technique, which is the technique that I have used for more years than I can remember.  (Seriously, if you never do any other bodywork with your horse, do the Bladder Meridian Technique.  It is so easy, my eight-year-old daughter can do it.  You can watch a video of how to do it here:

 

She also demonstrated a few other techniques, such as the Lateral Cervical Flexion (like one of the carrot stretches often recommended but in a more deliberate way that probably yields an improved benefit), the Scapula Release, the Withers Wiggle, a couple of hind end techniques, Lateral Rocking, and one technique I hadn't seen before that involved the cheek.  

After the demonstration, I was expecting to be able to practice on one of the horses from the center, mostly because I'd emailed the clinic organizer in advance and confirmed that I would be able to practice on said horse.  I even made an extra donation to the clinic as part of my registration because I appreciated the opportunity to practice without having to try to borrow someone's horse and bring it to the clinic.  (Donut is too young to handle an all-day clinic.)  As it turned out, what I got to do was hold someone else's horse while she practiced the technique.

And that was frustrating for a whole other reason than not getting to get some hands-on practice.  This poor mare had been natural-horsemanshipped to death.  When I met her, her nostrils were flared and she was breathing in quick, shallow breaths.  Her eyes were as wide as they could be and her ears were permanently stuck backwards.  She was screaming silently for help because every normal method of communication had been trained out of her.  And there was nothing I could do for her.  It was the longest damn hour of my life while I watched the owner be completely unaware of the mare's panic.  And when the instructor came over to watch the owner practice the technique, she either didn't notice or didn't care to mention it.

One of the things I did while I was holding the horse was tell the owner what I was seeing on the mare's face.  So if she was blinking, her lips were twitching, ears flicking, head twitching, etc., I would explain what I saw.  All of these things are signs that a horse has some tension in the area that the person doing the technique is going over.  This mare tried so very hard not to show tension in any way.  I could see her literally straining to hold her lids open, so she wouldn't even blink.  But sometimes, she couldn't hide her tension and she would start to blink.  She even had the ability to blink only one eye and not the other.  On the left side, she would sometimes only blink her right eye.  On the right side, sometimes she would only blink her left eye.  Without me at the head of the mare, the owner would have no way of knowing that.  I'm not sure what significance, if any, there was to that kind of blinking, but it was interesting to see.

The owner was able to get three releases of tension in the form of licking and chewing at a few points in the mare's body on the left side.  Once she moved to the right side, though, things got more interesting.  Instead of struggling to hide her responses, the mare immediately started pinning her ears and blinking rapidly instead of the slow blinking she'd done on the other side.  Within 2-3 seconds of the owner holding her hand over the area that elicited the reaction, the mare would start licking and chewing.  

It was at this point that the instructor came over and saw the pinned ears.  She immediately told the owner to stop, claiming the pinned ears meant the extremely light pressure that the owner was using was too much for the mare.  She said pinned ears where an extreme reaction and she said continuing to work would violate the mare's trust.  At that point, I tried to explain what I'd been seeing in terms of the differences in reactions between the two sides and the quickness of the licking and chewing that followed the ear pinning versus the interminable minutes that had ticked by on the other side while the owner tried to get the mare to release her tension.  But the instructor either didn't understand what I was trying to say or didn't care or didn't know and didn't want to admit it.  It was too bad, because I thought that was a lost opportunity to go more into depth.

After the interaction with the instructor, the owner felt uncomfortable doing much more with the mare because she got scared about the ear pinning.  (I've only owned one other mare in my life, but I had her for 15 years.  If I had backed off every time she'd pinned her ears, I would literally have gotten nothing done.  It's not that I think ear pinning should be ignored, but mares seem to use it much more frequently than geldings to communicate, and I don't think of it as a super high level reaction, although that probably depends on the mare and the circumstances.  In fact, in the case of this mare, who was so shut down and scared to express herself, I thought of it as a positive sign.  Here she was showing her feelings and staying with her for 2-3 seconds could bring her relief.)  If she had been mine, I would have continued to work through that right side with the ear pinning to see what happened.  And then I would have gone back to the left side to see if I could get more releases.  That mare had what looked like a lifetime of anxiety built up, and I really wished that she could have gotten more of a benefit from the bodywork while she was there.

I was initially tempted to consider this clinic a complete waste of my time, and I was kind of aggravated that I went when I could have been at home, with the house to myself.  I've had a very busy and stressful couple of weeks and really needed some down time.  But in retrospect, I don't think the clinic was a waste after all.  I learned something new about the horse world.  I'm not sure that I agree with it, but now I'm aware of it.  

I also saw first-hand what the damage can be from over-using natural horsemanship techniques.  I've seen Mark Rashid discuss it a little in one or two of his books, but I had never seen it in person.  I guess maybe I would rather have lived my life without seeing it, but now I know what it looks like.  I guess that is a good thing, although I don't know if I will ever be able to stop thinking about that poor mare and hoping that someday her life is better.

But the most important thing is that I learned to vet my clinics better.  I will probably only go to Masterson Method clinics that are done by Jim Masterson, rather than a certified person.  Everyone is free to interpret the techniques in their own way, and this particular instructor's interpretation didn't really match what I have watched Jim do.  I could be wrong, but I think he would have stayed working on that mare despite her pinned ears, and I don't think he would have dismissed my observations as irrelevant.  In fact, I expect he would have been able to provide some thoughts on exactly what was going on with that mare and offer deeper insight that would have been useful to know.  Now I'm just left with my own minimal experience to guide me and some theories.

All that said, I do encourage every single horse owner out there to learn more about the Masterson Method.  There are tons of YouTube videos as well as books and DVDs.  I think in-person instruction would be useful for several of the more advanced techniques, but there are many others that are easily learned by watching a video.  I have seen some pretty amazing results from using solely the Bladder Meridian technique.  I used to use it every single time after I rode Nimo for several weeks.  Combining it with a good conditioning program and schooling exercises yielded a much fitter and fluid horse in about five weeks.  

But the biggest benefit to me was that I learned to really become attuned to a horse's subtle communications.  All the time now, I see horses blinking and twitching their lips in response to things people are doing to them or around them.  Horses are constantly communicating and being aware that what I'm doing may be causing stress or discomfort is so helpful.  

I can also feel tension when I touch a horse now in a way that I couldn't before.  Even young Donut carries tension in her poll area and upper neck, so I use the Bladder Meridian Technique just in that area a couple of times a month to check how she is doing.  And when it comes to rehabbing an older horse like Star, the technique is a great way to see how she is progressing and what areas of her body are still having trouble.

So I'm hoping to continue to learn more about the method and start forcing myself to practice some of the other techniques.  I've kind of gotten complacent about it, and now I feel motivated to revisit the book and DVD that I have to pick out two or three more techniques to become comfortable with.

Do you do any bodywork for your horse?  Or hire a professional?  What results have you seen?